


Sherlollidrop - Heartbreak

by Minirose96



Series: Sherlollidrops [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Caught cheating, F/M, Fic's done, Heartbreak, Irene pulls one of her old tricks, Kinda, Molly sees and assumes, No Actual Cheating, Not A Happy Ending, Pregnancy, Sad, Sherlock doesn't actually cheat on Molly, Two-shot prompt, just to add this, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 06:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2803550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minirose96/pseuds/Minirose96
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started out as a one-word prompt from an Anon, that word being 'Heartbreak.' Chapter one was written Pre-S3, Chapter 2, a second prompt for more of the story, was written Post-S3.</p><p>Molly sees Sherlock snogging a dark haired woman and doesn't believe what he tells her. She leaves him. Five months later, Sherlock goes to Bart's for the first time and discovers just how much he lost because of The Woman's games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heartbreak

Had Molly known that two years after entering a relationship with Sherlock Holmes she would be cheated on, she never would have fallen in love with him to begin with.

Now, as she scrambled to pack her things, her mind flicked back to the horrible scene she had witnessed an hour ago. Was it really such a short time ago?

She had been out shopping, a little alone time out in the city since Sherlock had told her he would be busy with a case for the next few hours.

Apparently, sitting across from a dark haired, curvaceous woman as she tugged him closer by his tie and kissed him with enough force to rattle the window pane they sat next to was a case. The woman hadn’t even been dressed properly for the fancy restaurant they had been in. Her boobs - much bigger than Molly’s own, she compared drearily – had all but toppled out of her dress as she leaned over the table to get closer to Sherlock.

Molly shuddered in disgust and shoved the memories away as she zipped up her suitcase. She wiped her eyes on the back of her hand for what felt like the thousandth time in the last hour and picked up her bag. She was leaving. Nothing would change her mind.

And then she heard the front door close. Her face paled. No. No no no. He could not be home already. She did not want to see him, now or ever again.  She hadn’t even had time to catch Toby and get him in his carrier.

Oh well, she wasn’t staying to be torn apart by his eyes and his denials and lies and everything else she had been certain Sherlock would never do to her. She’d have John gather the rest of her things later.

She listened carefully, suppressing her cries with the back of her hand. She’d never get by him unnoticed. She’d just have to bolt for the door.

Except now, the handle of their bedroom door was turning.

Sooner than she ever wanted – which was never – Molly was met face to face with Sherlock, who paused minutely at the door as he looked her up and down, taking in every detail of her. Molly did the same. She flinched in disgust. The woman’s lipstick was still smeared across his face.

Sherlock, catching her lingering eyes, brought his hand up and wiped it across his face before pulling back to view the obnoxious dark red color.

“I can explain.” He said, lowering his hand. He didn’t look the least bit regretful, though perhaps just a little sheepish.

Molly’s eyes turned cold, and for the first time in years, there was no love in them for Sherlock Holmes. “No, Sherlock. I s-saw you. I am done. After everything I’ve done for you, I should have known that this was just another game, another way to make me cooperative in the lab – Don’t touch me!”

She backed away, putting her suitcase between them as he drew closer.

“Molly, you don’t understand. What you viewed – “

“No, you don’t understand. What I saw was my bloody boyfriend snogging another woman!” The tears ran freely, but Molly didn’t care. Let him see the hurt he had caused.

Sherlock actually seemed to flinch at her words, but he never stopped drawing closer, just as she never stopped retreating, until she was pinned against the wall, and he was effectively blocking her escape. He took the suitcase from her, and she let it go just so she wouldn’t have to touch him. He set it down behind him before placing his hands on either side of her face. She refused to look away, still glaring through her pain.

“Molly, I was not snogging he-“

“I know what I saw!”

Sherlock shook his head calmly. “She was snogging me. I did not initiate the action, nor was I a willing participant.”

Molly snorted her disbelief. “Let me by, Sherlock. I’m leaving.”

“Not until you listen to me.” Finally, the calm facade dropped, and Molly shivered, pressing her back against the wall. How she wished to just disappear in that moment.

“That woman means nothing to me. Her name is Irene Adler. She is manipulative and cold and that was just another way to try to get me to do what she wanted. She told me she had a case for me. I said I would meet her to discuss it. When I told her I was uninterested in helping her, she used the method you saw to try to persuade me. I said no, and left her there.”

Molly shook her head. “No. It’s been an hour. It doesn’t take that long to get from Angelo’s to here. I’m not stupid Sherlock.”

“I went to see Mycroft first, to tell him that Adler was back. Nothing more.” He raised her chin slightly, to meet her eyes. “Molly, I am not a cheater. I do not do sentiment and feelings and romance for anyone. Except you.”

Again, Molly shook her head. “I wish I could believe that Sherlock, but I don’t. Let me go.”

Sherlock stayed the fore just an instant more, before he seemed to shut down. His eyes went dark, devoid of all emotion. “Very well Miss Hooper.” The formalness of his tone made her shiver as he stepped away and left the room.

Molly stayed there, against the wall for a long time, simply crying.

She grabbed her suitcase and left the room to gather Toby up in his carrier, carefully avoiding the couch, where Sherlock had gone, his back facing the outside world.

She said goodbye to 221B, her heart was in pieces with no hope of repair.

Little did she know that another heart broke, curled up on the couch in the flat she had just left as he clutched at the velvet box he had kept hidden when he came home. A ring was nestled inside, the words ‘You will always count’ engraved into the band. 


	2. His Chosen Sacrifice

Five months had passed since Molly walked out of Sherlock’s flat with only a single packed suitcase and her cat shoved into his carrier.

Five months since John had come, promptly punched Sherlock in the jaw for his apparent – though mostly false – misdeeds before demanding he help John pack the rest of Molly’s things so the poor woman wouldn’t have to do so herself.

Sherlock didn’t bother correcting the notion then and still didn’t bother now.

Everyone was against him.

John was cold and did nothing to hide his contempt at Sherlock’s actions.

Mary refused to see him at all and was keeping her and John’s daughter firmly out of his reach. He missed his goddaughter.

Whenever Mrs. Hudson came up she still huffed softly, muttering about the mess and the lack of a feminine touch, as if he wouldn’t know what she was referring to.

Lestrade, for a while, had refused to give him any cases. He liked Molly, after all. Everyone did. Eventually, he was able to take cases again, but it had taken a while. Two months before Lestrade would let him in on a case, in fact.

The only person who believed he hadn’t cheated on Molly, ironically enough, was his brother, seeing as he had been with him during when the alleged affair took place. Oh, and of course, The Woman knew as well, but seeing as Mycroft now had her held in a state of the art penitentiary he highly doubted she would be out anytime soon to bother him.

He took to wearing the ring he had bought Molly around his neck on a slim silver chain tucked under his dress shirt. A constant reminder, he told himself.

Molly had moved out and moved on. She now owned a two bedroom flat on the other side of Bart’s, as far away as logically possible while still computing to and from work nearly every day.

Bart’s.

Sherlock hadn’t been there in five months. Since she left.

He had done his business inside another hospital, though the equipment and set up there wasn’t nearly as advanced.

Now though, he was forced to go to Bart’s. The latest body in a case he was working had been sent here against his wishes.

When he asked to have the body transferred, Lestrade had told him to piss off and, as he so positively put it, “Grow the fuck up and go see that damn woman. It’s the least you can do.” Sherlock didn’t quite understand why he needed to see Molly. She didn’t want anything to do with him now. She had told him quite plainly to stop trying to contact her. She didn’t believe him in the least. At all.

He had given up.

Now, it seemed like everything was rearing its ugly head again. There was no escaping it this time.

Sherlock all but glared at the front door. John was beside him, getting more and more annoyed.

“Are we going in or not, Sherlock? I do want to be home for dinner with the missus before eight this time.”

“I don’t want to go in John. She’s working right now.”

For an instant, Sherlock thought he was going to get punched again. He would have allowed it. Even his best friend thought him an absolute prick in this situation.

Instead, John gave him an odd look, one of realization.

Now, it was Sherlock’s turn to look confused. “What is it?”

“You honestly have no idea, do you?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Apparently not, John. But of course, no one has told me _anything_  because everyone you might believes I’ve done something that I haven’t.” It was an old conversation, which no one believed.

Except… now John was giving him that look again. Eventually, he shook his head. “Never mind, just go,” he said, all but pushing Sherlock through the door.

Sherlock did not like this. He didn’t like not having the answer. Obviously, it was something big that no one had deemed fit to tell him. Several scenarios flashed through his mind in the seconds before they entered the morgue.

All were shattered though, when he spotted her. Molly, beautiful, calm, collected, turning to face them. She barely even looked at him, her attention focused on John.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.  Or, more precisely, at the bump of her stomach that hadn’t been there five months previously. Unmistakable. She was at approximately six months pregnant.

You could have heard a pin drop in the following second.

Then Molly finally turned her gaze on Sherlock. It was just as cold as it had been the day she left. She truly had hardened her heart against him. There were undertones in her gaze, of pain and heartache, but they were far smaller than the mistrust there, all for him.

It kept him silent.

“Lestrade told me you’d be here for the Matthew’s case. He’s this way.” Molly said, leading the way and making it very clear he had no right at all in her mind to even ask about her condition.

So he didn’t. He worked over the body, barely speaking for than a handful of words to each of them. Where he would have spoken of his deductions, he kept silent.

He left, case solved, and texted Lestrade his findings. John was right behind him and tugged him to a stop.

“That’s it then? You figure out you’re going to be a father and you don’t say one bloody word to her about it?” He demanded.

“She doesn’t want me to say anything, John. She wants to be left alone, without my involvement. What do you intend me to do?”

John was flabbergasted. “I intend for you to go back there and explain! Hell, you’ve been trying to get everyone else to believe you didn’t cheat on her, why the hell haven’t you talked to her?”

“Because she told me not to, John. She told me to let her go. And I did. She won’t believe me now any more than you do.”

With that, he pried John’s hand off of his arm, and walked away.

From him, from Molly, from the baby. From everyone.

“It’s a bloody son, you git!”

John’s words echoed throughout the empty hall, but Sherlock just kept going.

It would be better this way. Both of them could be safe without his involvement.

 He clutched the ring around his neck as he walked away.

A constant reminder of what, in the end, he had willingly given up. 


End file.
